Welcoming in the What-If

I’ve been in a pretty gnarly place of stagnation over these recent weeks. And I know that at least for many in my circle with whom I’ve spoken, I’m also not alone in this feeling. However, even with the realization that this isn’t a singular experience, the onus is still on me to make a change should I want to and when I’m ready.

It’s undeniable; COVID continues to ask us to press pause on our lives, and in this place of friction, we are all being invited to evolve.

I have felt that call to evolve, and I have not been ready to answer. I have been static. I have had many feelings about this: self-loathing, guilt, shame, self-flagellation, anger, rage… you name it. It’s been an interesting place to be where I am aware enough to see what is happening, but I’m not yet ready to do anything different.

Martyrdom and victimhood, these are ways of being that I’m familiar with. They were modeled to me from a young age, and it’s easy for me to revert to those and wander aimlessly in this liminal place for a good while. This is where I have been.

Stuck in sadness. Lost in lament. Blinded by blame.

I started reading Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg this weekend, and in the introduction, she shares some contradictory notes as preparation for what the rest of the book entails. She shares:

“You might read a section in this book that says to be very specific and precise. That’s to help the ailment of abstract, general meandering in your writing. But then you read another chapter that says lose control, write on waves of emotion. That’s to encourage you to really say deep down what you need to say… Some techniques are appropriate at some times and some for other times. Every moment is different. Different things work. One isn’t wrong and the other right.”

I’ve been stuck in the former — focusing on routine, habit, precision, sameness. And during a time when variety is a bit more difficult to come by, I have allowed that to be my narrative. I have been drowning in precision and consistency, which has perpetuated my stagnation.

Intellectually, I know what to do. I’ve read enough personal development, philosophy, and psychology books to know that sometimes we need to introduce something different in order to shake things up. But damn, it is massively challenging for me to move from an intellectual understanding to actually embodying the teaching and making it real.

Over the past few days, I’ve started to see some very gentle movement, and it started when I decided to break what was a former hard and fast rule of mine. I created a nook in the bedroom and decided to start my days there. (Scandalous, I know!)

Previously, I have been adamant about keeping the bedroom a tech- and work-free zone. And for the most part, I think this is a super helpful rule. For years I have kept my phone in the bathroom at night, and I know that has helped tremendously with my sleep hygiene.

And what I’m also realizing is that when you’re living and working within the same 600 sqft. and going on month five of COVID stay-at-home orders, sometimes you’ve got to bend your own rules to invite in a new perspective.

This is a long-winded way to say that I’m continually reminded by the importance of Inquiry. I’ve even been allowing in this idea of Welcoming in the What-If. It’s this notion of allowing in possibility, of posing questions as a gentle invitation into another way of thinking. For some reason, that little ol’ question mark feels to me like the most generous permission giver.

So let’s take this recent experience of mine of feeling stuck, and frankly, quite morose. I can see in hindsight that the stagnation persisted because I was unable to release myself from identifying with that feeling, with that state of being. It was declarative. A statement. Period.

I am stuck.
I am sad.
I don’t like this.
I don’t want to be like this.

After weeks of being in this head and heart space, I finally felt ready for a shift. However, nearly every action still felt insurmountable, regardless of how minuscule it might seem. Slowly, I allowed myself to open up to Inquiry. Allowing my mind to wander and to be receptive to these thought experiments felt expansive. It was spacious. A possibility. Question mark.

What if I could allow myself to feel this sadness fully?
What if I believed that being stuck is not a bad thing?
What if I gave myself permission to not try to fix this, fix me?
What if I tried something different?

All of this illuminated for me what I perceive to be a subtle (but significant!) difference between identification and acknowledgement.

Identification feels like that declarative statement. It concretizes the feeling, which for me, perpetuates the stagnation. When I’m in a state of identification, my brain likes to tell me: This is it. This is truth. There is no way out. You are that. Then shame and blame and guilt become nearly unbearable. There is a lot of judgment baked into identification.

Conversely, acknowledgment feels like the most gentle awareness, a soft naming of what is present, without placing the same value judgment on it. When I’m in a state of acknowledgment, my soul is able to share: This is present. It’s not a problem. With this here, what do you most need in this moment? When awareness connects with acceptance, we can then reach acknowledgment. From this place, the expansiveness of possibility is not too far behind.

Ultimately, I see Inquiry as the way back to sovereignty. When I get caught in those cycles of deep identification, I repeatedly find myself in a reactionary state, giving my power away to the circumstances and conditions of my life.

Inquiry is my way back to the reclamation of my power.